QUEENS

I’m sitting at Java waiting for a meeting. This Sunday clients, what do we do with them? I can’t.

It’s Sunday mid-morning and selfies and things will drop in much later to flip up or down. I don’t have my laptop to keep me busy. I stare into space, softly drumming the table.

Then, a small group of lady bikers walk in with multi-coloured helmets and full body armour. They place the helmets on the tables and for a milli-second you can feel the entire café freeze.

I’m a bike enthusiast and I’ve been hoping to get my hands dirty with a subtler version of Sons of Anarchy - Nairobi style. It’s right here and I chicken out. I feel like a chicken crossing the street going to the drive-in KFC that’s on Thika Superhighway.

That is that, but it’s never over until Nina Simone sings and gives you a lecture while at it.

Later, I give myself a lecture and a few months later I’m meeting this cool lady with a mo-hawk, her name is Ciku she rides a purple superbike that could do 230 km/h and has a young-adult son who also rides within a small radius.